


Not Sentimental

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Affairs, F/M, Hints Of Mystrade, Hints of Johnlock - Freeform, Infidelity, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, mary is a bit not good, sherlock season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: Mycroft will do anything for his brother. Even go all the way.





	Not Sentimental

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know where this came from. I just woke up one morning and it was in my head, begging to be let out.

Mary looked at the man lying in the bed from the doorway of the en suite. The sunlight glowed orange through the drawn curtains of the hotel room. She wondered how many other people he had brought here for afternoon assignations.

 

She mustered a smile as she approached handing him a damp flannel. “Here you go.”

 

“Thank you, Mary.”

 

Mary slipped into her knickers and bra. She sat on the edge of the bed with her back to her partner. “This has to stop,” she said quietly.

 

He set the flannel aside and shifted so as to be more upright in the bed. He knew what was coming. Disappointment washed over him, but he quickly dismissed the emotion.

 

Mary turned to Mycroft. “I can’t do this any longer.”

 

“No, I suspect not. If for no other reason then you’ll be married in six weeks.”

 

“I love him,” came her soft reply.

 

“You’re not the only one.” Mycroft's tone was a trifle bitter.

 

“Sherlock doesn’t realize that is what he is feeling.”

 

“Doesn’t he? I think you underestimate his understanding of his emotions.”

 

“You’re trying to tell me about emotions?” Mary said with a touch of incredulity.

 

“No, I’m telling you about my brother.” Mycroft got up and walked to the en suite.

 

Mary watched him parade himself like a peacock. He was a beautiful man. The thought brought a tiny smile to her lips. “That’s not going to work,” she called out cheerfully. She began to dress, pulling on her trousers first.

 

Mycroft returned from washing up to find her slipping a shapeless jumper over her head. He also began to dress. As she stood at the mirror replacing her jewelry, she watched him reassemble his austere persona. He was a remarkably agreeable man in bed. Not all like what he projected to the rest of the world. “I’ll miss these interludes.” He commented offhandedly.

 

“No you won’t.” Mary scoffed good-naturedly. “You were only trying to distract me from getting too close to John. You hoped I would feel guilty about this fling and confess my infidelity.”

 

Mycroft said nothing and moved to stand next to her so as to use the mirror to perfect his appearance. She suppressed a smile as he fussed with his hair trying to put the thinning waves in their place.

 

She gazed slyly at him meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I know you spent the majority of our time in bed fantasizing about a certain DI with a lovely smile.”

 

Mycroft grimaced. “Was I that obvious?”

 

“No, darling.” Mary reassured him. All men had such egos about these things. “But I am not one of your goldfish.”

 

“No you aren’t.” He looked at her almost fondly. “I think you are…”

 

“Don’t get sentimental now.” She cut him off teasingly. She couldn’t let him do that.

 

“If you knew this was merely an attempt to displace you from John’s side, why have you participated?” Mycroft turned to look directly at Mary.

 

Mary smiled, her eyes twinkling. “So smart and so sexy, I just had to know what was under that suit.” She fussed with his tie and then stood on her tiptoes to press a tender kiss to his lips. “And I think…” she whispered.

 

“Don’t be sentimental,” he murmured.

 

Mary threw back her head and laughed. “Touché.” She stepped back to smooth his lapels and then a step further back, just out of reach. Mycroft did not move, letting her go.

 

She gathered her bag and slipped on her flats. She went to the door, stopping with her hand on the handle. “Don’t worry about Sherlock.” Mycroft pulled a face. “I know, you can’t help it, but John and I will look after him. I promise.” Mycroft gave her a small nod. Without another word she was gone.

 

FIN


End file.
